


The Road South - Part Ten

by ElderberryWine



Series: Far From Home [12]
Category: Lord of the Rings - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Part of the Far From Home series.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-24
Updated: 2010-03-24
Packaged: 2017-10-08 07:05:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElderberryWine/pseuds/ElderberryWine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fellowship sets forth from Rivendell, and Sam discovers his weapon of choice.  Part of the <i>Far From Home</i> series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Road South - Part Ten

The sun had dipped below the horizon when they finally stopped, that first night out from Rivendell. There were a few moments of uncertainty, as Strider (and no matter that apparently his name was actually Aragon, and that he was an heir to something mysterious, he was still Strider to the hobbits) indicated a sheltered spot at which to camp, not far from the well marked road. The tree-sheltered location seemed ideal, and they had caught sight, several times during the day, of a stream not far off, but it was immediately clear once they had halted that they had not yet sorted out their various roles in this company.

Sam gave an inward sigh, as he plopped his pack down near a poplar, the last of its leaves golden and hanging tenaciously to its limbs. He didn't mind being the chief cook and pot scrubber when it was just the four of them camping out. He had sampled Merry's cooking, and was not of a mind to try that experience again. Frodo normally joined in the process with him, as they had become quite used to each other's company in the kitchen of Bag End. Pippin, of course, tended to bound about, rather in the manner of a good-natured puppy watching its dinner being prepared, and was always ready to fetch water, or wood, or anything that might be required.

But this evening, Sam's mind was firmly fixed regarding the impracticality of letting Frodo help. He had already given him a stern look, as Aragon led the party to the clearing, and reminded him in a low voice that this was his first day on the road, after quite a nasty injury, and he fully expected Frodo to sit under the nearest tree, drink some tea as soon as it was ready, and not think of doing anything else. Frodo had meekly nodded, because Sam had quite accurately, of course, gauged his stamina, and getting off of his feet and relaxing with a hot mug of tea sounded immensely tempting.

Sam straightened up, picking up a couple of his largest pots, and glanced about at his companions. Gandalf was leaning back against a large boulder on the edge of the clearing, having already produced his long-stemmed pipe, and was obviously in a relaxing frame of mind. Sam never considered him, at any rate. There was a significant amount of impudence involved in asking a wizard, who could transform one into a toad at a whim, to go fetch some water, like a good lad. He had never been quite sure as to the extent of Gandalf's powers, but had no desire to further investigate the matter. He could have sworn that he saw a distinct twinkle in those piercing blue eyes hidden beneath both the hat and the great bushy brows, but he mentally shrugged, and turned to the rest of the party instead.

Merry and Pippin, of course, eager to do anything to bring dinner about more expeditiously, had quickly dropped their packs and were waiting for his instructions. Strider, too, had always been helpful during their previous journey, even if he rarely stuck around very long to actually eat with the hobbits. But it was the other three members of the group that Sam eyed, somewhat askance.

Both the elf and the dwarf had positioned themselves on the farthest sides of the clearing, and were both looking as if eating was something that did not concern them, although Sam had no doubts but that they would not decline any food offered to them. And perhaps most irritating of all, Boromir was lounging against a tree directly in front of him, and unmistakably expecting him to do something with the pots that Sam had spent all day lugging about on his back. Sam squared his shoulders, his pride pricking him more than a bit at that sight. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Pippin giving Merry a delighted nudge in the ribs and might have reconsidered, but it was too late. His mouth had already opened.

"Mr. Gimli, seein' as you've the ax, a bit of firewood would come in right handy," announced Sam in a tone that was far more assured than his actual sentiments at the moment. "Mr. Legolas, I'd be thinkin' the dried foods should be saved for when we'd be needin' it more, so any game you'd might be able t'bring in would come in that handy, likewise. I'd not be a bit surprised if there'd not be a coney or two out in the brush, or trout in that stream we passed. 'Tis no sense lettin' good food be gettin' away from us, if it can be helped. An' Mr. Boromir," he added, ignoring the rather stunned look the man was giving both him and the pots he was holding out, "I know we passed a stream not all that far back, and we'll be needin' water, if you'd be so kind."

"An excellent plan, Sam," Aragon spoke up before there was a chance for any to object. "Give me a hand, here, would you, Merry and Pippin? Let's set up camp and give Sam a chance to look to Bill. And Frodo, don't you think of doing anything but resting for the moment."

The first three members of the expedition previously addressed, somewhat bemused, gave each other surreptitious glances, and silently set forth on the errands they had been assigned. But as soon as they were out of sight, both Merry and Pippin broke into gales of silent laughter, and even Aragon cracked a wide grin. "Well done, Sam," Frodo beamed at him, from under the tree where he had settled.

"Nicely done, indeed," Gandalf added, with a distinct harumph, as Sam felt his face burning and knew, to his dismay, that he was becoming quite scarlet. "I think the titles are quite unnecessary, if you ask me, but really, quite nicely done."

"Well, I don't know but what my gaffer'd think I'd lost all sense if he heard me take on so," Sam mumbled, ducking his head down as he fussed with Bill's rope, "but it just didn't seem right that they should all be settin' about waiting for me to fix them dinner."

Aragon strode over to him and gave him a kindly clasp on the shoulder before leaning over picking up some flat stones that lay near to an ash tree at the edge of the clearing. "In my opinion, Sam, you have set us off on the proper foot, for we are all equal in this undertaking." Glancing up, he motioned to Merry and Pippin. "Merry, come help me build a fire pit, and let us prop together a spit for when Gimli brings back the wood. There were unmistakable signs of deer in these woods. Let us see if Legolas can find them, for what Sam says is quite true. Our store of supplies will last much longer if we only use them when all else becomes scarce. Pippin, you might want to search for some herbs, and there could still be berries in the bushes towards the stream."

Gimli was the first to return, with an armful of wood, and in no time the spit had been built, and the fire started, and when Boromir reappeared with the pots full of water, it was the matter of minutes before the water was merrily boiling over the fire. Legolas, after not too long an absence, returned with not a coney or fish, but rather a small deer slung over his shoulder, and in the end, the company sat down to a savory venison stew, and steaming hot mugs of tea.

Conversation around the fire that night was merry and optimistic, and when Frodo at last found comfort in Sam's arms late that evening, he felt full and contented and inexplicably happy.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

From that first night on, the days quickly fell into a comfortable pattern of leisurely travel through the stone-strewn valleys, as well as the small thickets and groves of the land that lay south of Rivendell. The evenings were congenial, and there was plenty of variety in the manner of provisions to be found along the wayside. Sam had, by general consensus, fallen into the role of chief cook, but there wasn't a member of the company who did not do his part in assisting him. Even Frodo, who was clearly beginning to get the color back into his cheeks, as well as regaining his strength, was finding tasks about the campsite each night that needed doing. He and Sam had become so used to reading each other's needs and thoughts that Sam never needed to ask, but found Frodo doing just what needed to be done. They would give each other an occasional private smile, but saved their whispered conversations for the nights, when most about them had fallen asleep.

So it was that the attack that tenth afternoon out from Rivendell took them all by surprise. The proceeding morning had been uneventful. They had arisen with the light, but had allowed the time for a substantial breakfast before striking camp and setting forth. Pippin and Merry had taken to walking alongside of Boromir, their interest piqued by his tales of Gondor, the mighty kingdom to the south. Gandalf had led the company, as usual, and Aragorn and Legolas had walked behind him, trading news of the north. Gimli had followed silently behind, keeping, as usual, his own counsel, and Frodo had fallen back with Sam and Bill, to take up the rear.

It was Sam who first noticed the uncanny behavior of the birds. They were quite ordinary swallows, but rather than either resting in trees during the warmth of the afternoon, or at least flying in their normal orderly array, they swirled about in a haphazard, confused mass, moving in patterns of unmistakable alarm. He pointed it out to Frodo, who quickly frowned in agreement. "You're right, Sam," he murmured with some concern. "That isn't right at all. We'd best let Gandalf know."

Spurring Bill on to a more rapid pace, not a difficult task at all, since Bill seemed to have picked up their uneasiness, Sam and Frodo quickly caught up with the leader. "Those birds," Frodo mentioned, giving Gandalf a hasty tug on the sleeve to capture his attention. "What do you think, Gandalf? Is there something amiss, or is it just my imagination?"

Gandalf only needed the briefest of looks before his expression turned to one of dismay, however. "Elessar!" he cried out at once, spinning around to face him. "Warg!"

Sam and Frodo turned to the ranger in bewilderment, but his reaction was anything but reassuring. His face turning ashen, the man murmured, "So far north!" nearly to himself, and then quickly turned to face the other members of the party. "Boromir, Legolas, Gimli!" he barked out. "Warg! Keep the hobbits to the center!" And before the hobbits, thrust hastily along with Bill in the middle of the quickly-formed circle, had any time to question him, the beasts were upon them.

All Sam caught was a glimpse of matted brown fur, and the air was filled with the sound of savage snarls and the dull thud of metal being driven into flesh, coupled with frenzied yowls. Desperately, though, he ripped through the pack that was on Bill's back, muttering in a disjointed way to the animal that he could feel trembling under his touch. "There's a good lad, Bill, you stay brave now, me dear," he tried to reassure the pony, whose ears were flattened against his head, and whose dark eyes, widened in fear with the whites clearly showing, sought Sam's. But there were more desperate needs at the moment, and foremost of them was to recover the hobbits' weapons, which had been thoughtlessly packed away.

The growling and snarling seemed to horribly grow in volume, and he caught only a quick glimpse of Pippin, back pressed against Bill and face contorted with shock and fear, when his hand finally contacted metal. With a muttered curse at his own slowness, he found the hilt, and ripped the weapon from the pack. It was Sting, and a small corner of his mind noted, with a strange sort of relief under the circumstances, that the blade was not glowing blue. "Frodo!" he yelled, taking a quick look up and about.

"Right here, Sam," came an oddly composed voice right at his side, and he turned to meet Frodo's eyes. "Good work, my dear," Frodo said, a grim smile appearing on his face, as he saw what Sam held wordlessly out to him. "Look out for the others, won't you?" And with no other word, he was gone from Sam's sight.

With an unconscious growl, Sam returned to the pack and soon found two more of the short swords that they had brought with them. Instantly, he looked up again and this time found a determined Merry waiting impatiently next to him, with a protective arm around an obviously still terrified Pippin. "Good work, Sam, we'll take these," he grunted, his jaw tightening as he grasped one sword authoritatively in his right hand, and offered the other to Pippin. Pippin sought Merry's eyes for just a fleeting instant, and then visibly collecting himself, gave Merry a nod. Then the two of them were gone.

There were no more swords to be found. Had he packed one? Sam tried to remember, but in the confusion and noise, it was no use. With a piercing yowl, a great beast with blood-matted fur broke through the ranks of the defenders only to drop, still twitching, at his feet. Bill gave a huff of fear, and Sam searched no more. Grabbing the heavy iron pan that was tied at the top of his pack, he whirled around, brandishing it aloft. "Aye, have a taste o'this, if ye like!" he yelled, the other hand still holding Bill's rope fast, but giving the nearest beast a hearty clout.

However, by this point, the attackers had had enough. It was only now that Sam caught a good look at them. Somewhat like wolves they were, but with the coloring of a badger, and with the same thick shoulders and neck. Seven of the beasts lay dead before the company, and only half a dozen still circled them, growling and displaying their fangs. Legolas, though, had been standing somewhat to the side, and drawing his bow faster than Sam ever imagined could be done, let fly an arrow. It landed squarely in the center of the forehead of the beast that was at the front of the pack, sending it into horrible convulsions. The rest of the beasts gave their leader a surly look, and turned. As fast as they had come, they were gone. Without a change of expression, Legolas let a second arrow fly, and the great beast was suddenly still.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

It was a subdued company that evening, around the campfire. They prepared their evening meal nearly wordlessly, at least several miles away from where they had left the carcasses of the warg. It wasn't until Boromir had turned to Gandalf with a worried frown, and muttered, "I've never known warg to travel this far north," that the strained silence was broken.

"Not a good sign," the old wizard agreed, shaking his head in an uneasy manner and setting down his plate. "Warg are normally much farther to the south. Perhaps it is merely a sign of an especially cold winter to come, but it may also be an indication…" and here he fell silent, staring into the flames of the campfire.

"These warg," Legolas prompted Boromir quietly, cupping his elegant hands around a warm mug of tea. "I am unfamiliar with the creature. Can you tell us more, Boromir?"

Shooting a quick look at Gandalf, whose attention was still apparently on the flames, the man answered. "They are creatures of evil, animals that glory in killing for no reason. These unnatural demons have been set upon us by the White Wizard. Such beasts were never seen until the past ten years or so, issuing from the land to the north of Rohan. And 'tis said that creatures far more loathsome and evil than these are abroad, creatures that appear to be mockeries of men, but hideous and abhorrent to behold. Orcs are, alas, familiar to the land of Gondor, but these beings are more repugnant still."

"No need of discussing these evils tonight," Gandalf's voice was stern yet somehow reassuring. "We may indeed face those creatures another day, but not this night. We have need of rest now rather than discussion. Tomorrow, however, we must examine our options. The route to the south may not be as straight-forward as we had hoped."

There was very little conversation after that, and before long, the campfire was extinguished and they had found their places for the night. Legolas had offered to keep watch, as he needed little sleep, and Aragon had chosen first watch along with him. They could be seen, in the light of the quarter moon, sitting on a higher rock and talking quietly to each other. Gandalf had disappeared, no-one was quite sure where, and Gimli and Boromir were both soon asleep under the shelter of the scrub trees that circled the clearing, judging by the duet of their snores. Merry and Pippin had been unnaturally quiet at first, as they lay close together under their blankets, but before too long, Sam could hear Merry's soft voice and Pippin's occasional reply. He and Frodo lay close enough, only partially screened by the bushes, to stay within sight of the others, but far enough away to give themselves a bit of privacy. Bill had settled near them, and Sam was glad to see that the pony appeared to be recovered from his earlier ordeal. He wasn't quite as sure about himself.

"Sometimes," he heard Frodo suddenly say softly, as he lay next to Sam with Sam's arms around him, "it almost seems as if we are on a hiking jaunt about the Shire, and I nearly wish it were only you and I, or at least we four hobbits. And then, it becomes clear that we left the Shire long ago, and there is good reason to have our current companions with us."

Sam turned his head to discover Frodo looking steadily at him. "We can't take back any of this, can we, Frodo," he murmured, and it was not a question.

Frodo gave him a rueful smile, though, and reaching a hand out from under the blankets, drew it lovingly down the side of his face. "I'm afraid not, Sam, my love. It's now a matter of seeing it through, I'm afraid. But you are with me, and that matters so much more to me than anything else." Pulling Sam gently closer to him, he found his mouth and kissed him longingly.

"Ah, my Frodo," Sam sighed then, tightening his embrace just a bit. "You've the right of it, dearie. You are with me, too, and we'll just have t'take the rest of it as it comes."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

"You looked so fierce, Merry, today," Pippin had said suddenly, watching Merry's familiar profile next to him. Merry gave a soft laugh at his words, and turned to him with a warm smile.

"Pretty good job of acting, then, I'd say," he murmured, giving Pippin a quick kiss on the forehead. "I was terrified, Pip, who wouldn't be? But these Big Folk; sometimes I think they consider us children, only because they're taller than we. I just wanted them to see that we could hold our own, if it came down to it. Bit of foolish pride, I expect, but it turned out well enough."

"I don't think Strider feels that way," Pippin gave a reluctant smile back to Merry.

"No, not Strider," Merry agreed quickly. "And not Gandalf, either. I expect they are more familiar with us hobbits than the rest."

"And not Gimli," Pippin prompted him.

"No, not Gimli. He's not all that much taller, after all, and then his father knew Bilbo, so, not Gimli."

"The elf?" Pippin continued, his smile beginning to become decidedly mischievous.

"Oh, definitely the elf," Merry confirmed, with a broad grin. "But then, how old is he again? I suspect he thinks we're all childish. Excepting Gandalf, of course. I can't imagine anyone feeling that way about him."

"And the other man, Boromir?" Pippin gave a short giggle.

"The worst offender of the lot," Merry gave the verdict with relish. "It was quite satisfactory, I must admit, to get a few blows in on that one beast that was pestering him so. And that blow across the backside? Quite nicely done, Pip. That distracted the creature just long enough."

"Well, it did seem like the safest end on which to attack it," Pippin felt compelled to point out. "None of the fangs back there, you know."

"Indeed, you have a definite point. We will make a fearsome warrior of you yet, Master Peregrin Took," Merry lovingly teased him, and culminated his remarks by rolling Pippin over just enough to give him a quick nuzzle right under the ear.

Pippin sighed in delight, but reluctantly admonished Merry. "Ah, Merry, my dear, don't you even consider that. Our companions are far too on edge tonight to make our way from camp unnoticed. But I plan on keeping a very sharp eye open tomorrow, and being quite demanding about an early lunch if I spot a likely place."

"Aha, an excellent plan, you wily Took," Merry had to agree. "So I suppose sleep would be the thing for now, then." And in a very short time, it was.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

"Our choices are these," Gandalf stated peremptorily the next morning, as the company finished a hasty breakfast. "There is the road through Rohan, which leads to Gondor. However, Gondor is not where we are bound, and in addition, since it is the more straightforward, though longer, route to the River Anduin, I suspect that our enemies will look for us to travel that way." Sam noticed Boromir stirring uneasily at this judgment, but he said not a word.

"In addition, there is the mountain pass of Caradhras," Gandalf continued on. "It is steep and treacherous at any time of the year, but doubly so now, as we are nearly in winter. The advantage this route has, of course, is that our enemies will not look for us to go this way."

He fell silent then, but Sam noticed that both Aragon and Gimli still watched him rather pointedly. "There is another way," Gimli at last said, in his harsh voice.

"Yes," Gandalf sighed reluctantly. "The mines of Moria. But I have my doubts, indeed, I do. Tell me, Gimli," he added abruptly, "when was the last you heard from your kinsmen there?"

"Not for the last several years," the dwarf had to admit grimly. "I have my doubts, as well."

"What do you say, then, Frodo? You are the Ringbearer, after all," Boromir asked unexpectedly, turning to the startled hobbit.

"That I may be," Frodo warily responded. "But I have no knowledge of the lands outside the Shire. It would be folly for me to make this decision. You have traveled these roads more often as of late, Gandalf," he continued. "It would seem best to me to follow your judgment on the matter."

"I agree," Legolas added surprisingly. "Which route should we take, Gandalf?"

The wizard stood up at that verdict, pushing himself heavily up by his staff. "We will take the mountain pass, then. If all goes well, it is our shortest path across the Misty Mountains. We can cross the great River far to the north, which will be to our advantage. But I must warn you, that it is not necessarily the weather which will impede our way. There are older forces on this Middle Earth than you know of, and not all care for mortals, or even the elder folk. However, it does seem to be the way of lesser evil."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

"Well, that was certainly a rousing recommendation," Merry muttered to Frodo, as the hobbits fell to the back of the company, along with Bill. "And what about the not being fond of mortals bit? Makes these warg look not so bad, all of a sudden."

"You've got a point, Merry, no mistake," Sam agreed, nodding. "Nasty beasts, to be sure, but an arrow or a sword sends them on their way, sure enough."

"As does a frying pan, Sam," Pippin chimed in with a grin. "You certainly looked fierce with that swung over your head."

Frodo gave him an amused side glance. "I missed that, Sam. Were you attacking the beasts with the kitchenware?"

"Couldn't find another sword," Sam admitted, somewhat embarrassed. "Doesn't have much of a range, but I guessed it would do in a pinch."

Merry laughed then, and added, "More than just do, Sam, it was bloody effective. I saw what was left of the warg you walloped with it. Took the fight right out of him, you did."

Sam, faintly rosy, said nothing more, but Frodo laughed fondly and gave him a hug. "Brave and resourceful under attack, and a master of all sorts of weapons," he smiled warmly at him. "And keeping Bill in check as well. Yes, that I did see, my dear. You are becoming a formidable warrior, indeed, Sam. Ted Sandyman will think twice before giving you sauce, when we get back."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

It was not snow, precisely, that bothered the hobbits. It was more the deep, seemingly bottomless banks of it that were the difficulty, especially given that what path there was hung close to the mountain's edge, and that a false step into what appeared to be a sturdy bank of snow could prove to be a step absolutely off of the side of the mountain.

The road up Caradhras had begun harmlessly enough, with banks of snow beginning to appear in the shaded areas under trees and brush by the side of the road, and with a brisk chilly wind that reddened all the hobbits' noses, not to mention those of the men, and caused them all to find a scarf to wind about their necks, and to fasten their jackets and cloaks more securely, and to tuck their hands, whenever possible, more tightly into their pockets.

But still, it was tolerable enough the first night as they made camp, and sat closely about the cheerful fire, gratefully drank their hot tea, and thawed their hands about bowls of, once again, warm venison stew. Privacy was not a concern, but instead, all blankets and cloaks were placed closely by the fire, and all of the company were grateful for its heat. The hobbits had huddled close together, and in addition, used Bill for warmth. Sam privately thought that the pony was just as grateful for them, as well. Merry bravely took the outside position, with Sam next to Bill, and the other two between. It did take awhile for their shivering to subside, but it wasn't all that long before a delicious sense of drowsy contentment began to take hold of all four, and Merry and Pippin soon dropped off into deep slumber, Merry's back curled spoon-fashion into Pippin's light embrace. Sam and Frodo, though, watched the rest of the company through sleepy eyes, thankful for a chance at a bit of quiet conversation.

"I'd be thinkin' those two would be better off a bit closer together," Sam mused, watching the two men bed down resolutely apart. " 'Tis a shame to waste body heat."

Frodo gave a light chuckle. "Perhaps you have not noticed, Sam, but they are not particularly friendly. Something to do with whoever actually runs Gondor, and some claim Strider has, apparently, on it. I'm afraid I missed all the details; it almost seemed as though I was listening to Aunt Esme and Great-Aunt Delphinium going on about which Brandybuck was actually the descendent of Bullroarer Took, or some such nonsense."

Sam chuckled, and snuggled a little closer to Frodo. Despite the added impediments of the cold and the steep rocky terrain the last few days, he had been grateful to see Frodo keeping up with no apparent difficulties, and acting far more his normal self than he had since his injury. "Ah, there's folks as take a good deal of store in that sort of thing, m'dear," he murmured, wrapping a protective arm about Frodo, under the cloak.

"I expect so," Frodo chuckled, scooting himself closer in to the warm curve that Sam had made of himself. "I'm afraid I've just never had a fondness for positions and titles and proper bloodlines and such twaddle."

"Right glad I've been, t'discover that," Sam replied, with mock solemnity, giving Frodo's ear the least of nips.

Frodo turned his face though, at that provocation, and kissed Sam warmly. "I would have been the greatest fool who ever walked, to have let you go on account of that, Samwise Gamgee," he whispered tenderly, as their lips parted. "And quite fortunately for me, I am not that."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The banks of snow were more pronounced the next day, and before noon, the road, or what beaten path had been visible, lay buried under sparkling white drifts, undisturbed by the footprints of any creature. But the sun was still out, and although there was a bitter nip to the wind, when it occasionally blew past, making their way up the mountain trail did not seem like an impossible task. The taller folk walked at the front, stamping down the snow, and the hobbits followed. Gimli kept to the rear, ready to lend a hand, should one of the hobbits lose his footing, and Bill followed placidly behind, only giving an occasional shiver when a dollop of snow landed on his back from a passing tree.

Legolas had gone ahead, since he seemed quite light on his feet, and nimble in the snow. Sam, who was traveling to the rear of the hobbits, along with Gimli and Bill, couldn't help pointing out to Frodo and the dwarf that the elf didn't seem to leave footprints, but rather appeared to walk on the surface of the snow. "Oh, aye, likely enough," the dwarf shrugged. "But Mirkwood is to the north, and they'd be plenty used to snow. Leave it to the elves to figure out a way of getting about with as little work as possible."

Frodo, trudging through the beaten down snow next to Sam, couldn't help but give Gimli an amused smile at that comment. "But I thought you live to the north of the Misty Mountains, as well," he commented. "At least, that's what Bilbo had told me, once."

"Well, yes, that we do," Gimli gave a rumble that the hobbits quickly realized was a chuckle. "But you'd not find our folk out and about much during the snows. No, we have fine warm caverns, with decent tunnels to get you where you'd need to go. No need to be out in the snow, really. Just a matter of putting up proper stores when the weather is good. Thinking ahead, you know."

Rather startled at the longest bit of conversation that he had heard from the dwarf since the trip began, Frodo replied at once, "That certainly sounds sensible to me. Being underground is so much cozier in the winter; I wonder that anyone would want to live elsewhere."

"Aye, that it is," Gimli quickly concurred, his expression softening, and Frodo realized with a start that the dwarf appeared to actually be homesick. It must indeed be difficult, he realized, with sudden commiseration, to be the only one of his folk on this journey, and to be traveling so far from home.

"Why did you come on this quest, really?" he asked softly, watching Gimli curiously. "It would seem that the dwarves are in the least danger of all the free people."

Gimli regarded him seriously for a moment. "One might say the same of the hobbits," he answered at last, "and yet there are four of you here. Since it is a matter that must, in the end, concern all of the free folk, it is well that each should be represented. And as for why it is I, it is for my father that I go. He was sent by our council, but none thought that the journey would take him farther than Rivendell. And since it has, it is better that I continue on in his place."

Frodo considered this before graciously and sincerely replying, "And it is our honor, Gimli, son of Gloin, to have you with us."

Gimli gave a short, nearly embarrassed nod, and they walked on in silence for a few moments.

"And when there is time," the dwarf abruptly offered, with a now unmistakable smile, "there are tales I could tell you of your uncle Bilbo Baggins that you may not have heard before. He was quite a legend to us as younglings. And to think that I now journey toward the south, in the direction of the kingdoms of men, at the side of his nephew. It is a strange and marvelous world, indeed."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The hobbits had long ago given up on conversation, and each was merely concentrating on placing one foot ahead of the other, when Aragon happened to look back, and brought Gandalf, with a light touch to his arm, to an abrupt halt. Boromir had been walking stolidly next to him, and Legolas was ahead, unseen, but the others in the company were now decidedly lagging behind them. Merry and Pippin were trudging, side by side, several paces back, with their heads down. And Sam and Frodo were even farther back, matching their pace to the slow steps of Bill. Even Gimli, keeping resolutely to the rear, seemed weary.

"My apologies," Gandalf shook his head with a wry smile to the rest of the company, "I should be matching my pace to yours, and not the other way around. Indeed, we should be making camp, while there is still light. The next few days will be difficult, and we should take our rest while we may."

The hobbits gratefully came to a halt, but a quick look about did not reassure them much as to the desirability of their current location as a camping site. "Tell me, Gimli," mentioned Merry hesitantly, "would there be any brush about for a fire?"

Gimli, unconsciously thumbing the axe slung at his side, surveyed the sheltered clearing with an expert eye, but soon shook his head. "There's some wood about," he replied gruffly, "but it's far too soaked by the snow to be of much use for a campfire."

Sam, who had been gratefully massaging his calves, as he stood next to Bill, quickly looked over to Gandalf in dismay at that pronouncement from Gimli. "No fire?" he murmured, disappointed. "I'd not be mindin' a cold meal, but we'd be needin' some hot tea, leastways."

In the meanwhile, Pippin had sat down quite heavily on the snowy path, and was unconsciously rubbing one of his feet, tucked up next to him. "What's this about, now, Pip?" murmured Merry with concern, squatting next to him, and Boromir walked over, with a frown as well and gazed down at them with his arms akimbo.

"My toes," mumbled Pippin reluctantly. "They feel, well, gone, somehow."

"Let's have a look at that, young hobbit," the man said at once, with a frown of apprehension, as he knelt down next to Pippin. Brushing the snow off of the foot that Pippin, with a bit of embarrassment, extended out toward him, Boromir frowned, and shook his head. "Frostbite," he muttered, and looked up to Merry with his brows knit sternly together. "I've seen this often enough, when I've been on mountain patrol with my men. We'll be needing some warm water, or he may be in danger of losing his toes."

Merry's eyes opened wide with alarm at this pronouncement, and he spun around, but there was no need to inform Aragon or Gandalf, as they were directly behind him. Aragon quickly knelt at Boromir's side, and gently taking Pippin's foot from him, examined it as well, as Pippin meekly sat, looking from one face to the other. After doing so, Aragon stood wearily up, and faced Gandalf. "Boromir is quite right," he said quietly. "I'm afraid that the hobbits will not be able to follow this route for much longer, at this rate, and certainly tonight we will have need of a fire. And it does not appear that we shall have one by the normal means."

Gandalf was silent for a few moments, and then slowly nodded his head. "We will speak of the route later, for Legolas has not yet returned, and I need to know what he has found that lies ahead. But yes, it does seem that we must have, at least for tonight, a fire." He straightened up, then, and pointed to a snowy depression at the side of the path. "Aragon and Boromir, there is fairly level ground underneath here. See how much of the snow you may be able to clear away. Gimli, look about for likely branches for the fire. It will not matter if they are wet from the snow. Pippin, you stay off of your feet, and Frodo, try to find some spare cloths, if you have them. Sam, you may see to Bill, and Merry, we will need the pots filled with snow to be melted."

Without questions, all busied themselves with their assigned task, and before very long the small area was relatively free from snow, and there was a stack of dampened branches piled in the middle for a fire. The blankets and cloaks had been spread about on which to sit, and Sam had found a few handfuls of oats for Bill, and even one of the apples that he had been carefully keeping for the pony for the occasional treat. Certainly, he felt, handing it to Bill and giving the appreciative pony's nose an affectionate rub, this was a day of work that called for the extra bit of recognition.

Gandalf stood before the wood with a grave expression, his arms crossed, and gave a sigh. "Well, there's no help for it, I suppose," he muttered at last, with the closest approach to uncertainty that Frodo had ever seen him display. "But I do hate to announce my presence for all who would see." And with no other preamble, he touched his staff to the wood.

There was a quick, intensely bright flare, and then the wood caught fire and began to burn in a quite ordinary way. "Now, that's an uncommonly handy trick, no mistake," an amazed Sam whispered to Frodo, sitting next to him on a blanket. "I mean, the fireworks are all well an' good for a bit o'fun, but this trick is downright useful. Wonder why he hasn't used it afore now? Could have saved us a right lot of grief these past few nights; lightin' these damp logs has been that tricky."

"Well, he said that it lets folk know he's here, and he'd rather it was not known," Frodo quietly answered, with a frown. "Although, I really can't see that there's anyone else about, as far off as we are from everything. But then there's that bit when we first went this way about something not liking mortals. I must admit that's still bothering me."

As soon as the water had warmed enough, though, Boromir returned his attention to Pippin, who had been sitting uncharacteristically silent with Merry's protective arm firm around his shoulders. "Let's have a look at it, young hobbit," the man said gruffly, lifting Pippin's foot up again. "See that, Meriadoc?" he turned to the other hobbit, pointing to Pippin's toes. "It's that whitish color that's the sign, you see. And you said there was no feeling in them?" he questioned Pippin again, getting a silent nod in response. " 'Tis the sign of frostbite, to be sure, but we should have caught it in time. They just need to be bathed in warm water, and yes, it will sting, to be sure," he added with a wry smile, as Pippin winced at the touch of the wet cloth, "but that's a good sign, now. Here, Meriadoc, you may continue from here," he added, handing the cloth over to Merry.

"I must say, though," he added, beginning to rise, "that my men generally got frostbite when the snow got into their boots. Is there no sort of footwear that your people use in this sort of weather?"

"Well, I have heard of some sort of boots," Pippin found his voice, with another wince at the returning sensation to his feet. "Hoy! Merry, that really does sting, you know," he added, somewhat impatiently, as Merry gave a guilty start, and was promptly less energetic about massaging his toes. "But that would generally be only used by hobbits to the far north of the Shire, and only in the midst of winter. And we didn't exactly pack extensively, did we, Merry. As a matter of fact, I don't believe we actually packed at all. We didn't even get to say goodbye to our families," and Pippin's voice gave an unmistakable wobble at that, as Merry quickly looked up with a frown.

But before Merry could say anything, Boromir asked, somewhat incredulously, "You mean you left your home on a whim?"

"No, not exactly," Merry interjected then, with more than a touch of asperity. "There was the issue of the Black Riders hunting us down at the time. They were quite inconsiderate on the matter of good-byes and packing, and that sort of thing, if I remember correctly."

"I do apologize," the man replied quickly, "I did not know the details of your departure. I do understand why Frodo is here, and I can understand why Sam is, as well, but I did not know the circumstances under which the both of you left your land. You do seem, if you may pardon me for saying so, rather young to be on such a perilous journey."

"Well, Merry isn't really," Pippin answered in a rather matter-of-fact way, "but I suppose I am. But I certainly wasn't to be left behind, so there you are. We all love Frodo too much to let him wander off to parts unknown without us, you know."

Boromir gave them both a quick smile. "Frodo is indeed a fortunate hobbit, to have such devoted friends," he said softly. "That is not a gift which comes to many."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The sun did not reappear the next morning. Instead both sky and ground were swathed in white, and a dim light made it most difficult to see where one ended and the other began. Snow had actually covered them lightly as they slept, and Gandalf reluctantly started the fire once again in order that they might have a warm breakfast before starting off again. Legolas had returned during the night, and after a quick conference with Gandalf, it was decided that they would continue on the road they had been following. "But time is of the essence," the wizard cautioned them tersely. "We have at the least two more days journey across the face of Caradhras before our path will descend into more hospitable lands again. Therefore, it would be best if the two lightest of the hobbits ride Bill, for the time being. That would be Pippin and Frodo, I believe. I'm afraid that is the limit that our brave pony may carry, and so Sam and Merry, you will have to be assisted by Aragon and Boromir. I must urge you, my good friends, to consider that our only chance of success is in the swiftest passage possible."

Any objections that Sam and Merry might have had at this undignified means of transport were quickly swallowed by this stipulation, and they meekly nodded assent.

So before long, Gandalf strode out in the lead, with Legolas continuing to scout out ahead, with Aragon, Sam firmly clinging to his back pig-a-back style, and leading Bill, at his side. Gimli followed, still bravely battling through the drifts, and Boromir, with Merry on his back, made up the rear. Frodo rode on Bill with Pippin in front, and both being decent riders, quickly adjusted to the plodding pony's pace. Sam stolidly wrapped his arms around Aragon's broad back and, ignoring the rhythmic thump of his pack against his own back, resisted the temptation to twist around to catch sight of Frodo. Merry, his pride somewhat nettled by his undignified position, grimly clung to Boromir and tried his best not to envy Pippin his lighter frame. He was not entirely successful.

Time seemed to stand still in the windy whiteness, and it was nearly impossible to tell if they were traveling uphill or down through the snow. None spoke as the wind increased, biting fiercely into their faces, and snow thickened in the air. The mountain, that had clearly been at one side when they had begun, had disappeared into white as their area of visibility became restricted to what was at their feet, and no more. Halting for meals was unthinkable; not even Pippin considered that possibility.

Legolas continued to tirelessly journey ahead and report back to Gandalf on what lay ahead, but even he was beginning to show signs of exhaustion, as they halted after what appeared to be hours of slow-fought progress. Sam, near the front, could not hear the words of the elf, but his expression was grim as he spoke to the wizard.

Quite suddenly there was a loud hollow boom and a sharp crack, and Gandalf leaped forward, grabbing the startled elf's arm, and giving it a hasty jerk back. It was not an instant too soon however, as a great sheet of ice suddenly slid down from the unseen mountain, past where Legolas had just been standing but a moment ago.

Gandalf did not hide his alarm as he whirled about, and cried out in a voice that could barely be heard above the wind, "Turn back! Turn back at once!" Aragon acted immediately, and keeping Bill to the safer mountain side, urged the bewildered pony rapidly around in the treacherous snow; Frodo and Pippin clinging, white-faced, to his back. Gimli and Boromir wasted no time in argument but turned as well, trying to retrace their footsteps as quickly as possible.

It was well that they had acted swiftly, for with another booming crack, a second wall of ice tumbled past where they had just been standing. They need no more urging, but fled, scrambling and slipping in the perilous drifts, until they at last found the place where they had made camp the night before.

On the more stable ground, Boromir sagged in exhaustion against an icy boulder, and Merry quickly slid to the ground. Gimli stood nearby, propping himself against his axe, and breathing heavily. Sam could feel Aragon's harsh breathing as well, and also let himself drop to the ground as quickly as he could, and sought out Frodo at once. The disheartened group gathered around Gandalf, but the wizard's face was grim.

"It is as I have feared," he wearily shook his head. "Caradhras holds no good will toward any creature that moves about upon Middle Earth, and will not suffer us to pass this way. With any luck, we will be allowed to rest here tonight, but this road is closed to us, and we shall have to retrace our steps come tomorrow."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

It was a somber evening, and none of the company said much. Gandalf reluctantly lit one more fire, only sufficient for a quick meal to be cooked, and a bit of warmth before the dark clouded night fell about them. Sam lay with Frodo in his arms, but the other side exposed to the cold. He had insisted that Merry take the position next to Bill this night, for it seemed only fair to him. In spite of tucking the uppermost cloak tightly in at his side, he still felt the bite of the icy air, and tried his best to quell the involuntary shivers that racked him from time to time. But Frodo was awake as well, and wordlessly urged Sam onto his side, holding him spoon-fashion as Merry had held Pippin the night before.

"These will be long and fearful roads, indeed," he murmured softly into Sam's ear after Merry and Pippin's breath had settled into the cadenced pattern of sleep. Lifting himself slightly, Frodo gently wrapped one arm under Sam's neck and the other across his chest, embracing him closely. "But I have you, my dearest Sam, and I promise you that I will keep you safe," he murmured, kissing the side of his face tenderly. "Sleep now, my beloved; have no fear. You are in my arms, and nothing will ever harm you here."

And Sam felt his heartbeat steady and calm itself, and his anxious fears subside. Warmth began to creep through his chilled body, and he suddenly felt oddly contented and at peace. He was sheltered in Frodo's love, and he had never needed anything more than that.


End file.
